Dragon In Training (Box)

By Emily Carrington

Mark’s expertise is in dragons. He can’t say the same about relationships. Until he picks up a lamp…

Dragon Food: Something is hunting along the Gulf coast of Florida, and Mark Tavery is tasked with finding it. His expertise in dragons is his pride, but he can’t say the same about his romantic relationships. When he picks up a lamp during his investigation, he’s shocked at his instant attraction to, and all-consuming need for, the genie inside. Mark’s greatest desire is to have Luke in his life and in his bed, but giving in to the promise in Luke’s touch means Mark runs the risk of killing the genie he loves.

Dragon Fire: Luke is a genie with almost limitless power, but it does him no good when his lover, Mark, won’t let him have the two things he really wants: for Mark to rely on him as an equal partner during magical conflicts, and to be dominated in bed. Will Luke ever get the chance to prove that he can be both strong in the field and the perfect submissive in the sack?

Dragon’s Bane: Atlas, a genie-god with nearly limitless power, has one task. He must find the modern equivalent of Cerberus and kill it. He discovers the three-headed dog’s incarnation are three figures that surround his current master -- Dan’s current lover, Reese, Mark, a water dragon and Reese’s obsession, and Luke, Mark’s genie. Mark and Luke find their memories are altered and untrustworthy. One thing is clear: Only their love for each other can save them -- and everyone at SearchLight -- from Atlas completing his terrible final task.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Changeling Press
• Release date: Apr 6, 2019

Book preview

Carrington

Dragon in Training (Box Set)

Emily Carrington

Dragon Food: Something is hunting along the Gulf coast of Florida, and Mark Tavery is tasked with finding it. His expertise in dragons is his pride, but he can’t say the same about his romantic relationships. When he picks up a lamp during his investigation, he’s shocked at his instant attraction to, and all-consuming need for, the genie inside. Mark’s greatest desire is to have Luke in his life and in his bed, but giving in to the promise in Luke’s touch means Mark runs the risk of killing the genie he loves.

Dragon Fire: Luke is a genie with almost limitless power, but it does him no good when his lover, Mark, won’t let him have the two things he really wants: for Mark to rely on him as an equal partner during magical conflicts, and to be dominated in bed. Will Luke ever get the chance to prove that he can be both strong in the field and the perfect submissive in the sack?

Dragon’s Bane: Atlas, a genie-god with nearly limitless power, has one task. He must find the modern equivalent of Cerberus and kill it. He discovers the three-headed dog’s incarnation are three figures that surround his current master -- Dan’s current lover, Reese, Mark, a water dragon and Reese’s obsession, and Luke, Mark’s genie. Mark and Luke find their memories are altered and untrustworthy. One thing is clear: Only their love for each other can save them -- and everyone at SearchLight -- from Atlas completing his terrible final task.

Dragon Food (Dragon in Training 1)

Emily Carrington

Something is hunting along the Gulf coast of Florida, and Mark Tavery is tasked with finding it. His expertise in dragons is his pride, but he can’t say the same about his romantic relationships. When he picks up a lamp during his investigation, he’s shocked at his instant attraction to, and all-consuming need for, the genie inside.

The genie, Luke, enjoying his attraction to his newest master, is intent on giving Mark nothing less than his heart’s desire. Mark’s greatest desire is to have Luke in his life and in his bed, but he refuses to acknowledge this because loving Luke means letting out the demons locked in his heart. Giving in to the promise in Luke’s words and touch means he runs the risk of killing the genie he loves.

Chapter One

Being trapped in a lamp for twenty years at a time wasn’t as unpleasant as it sounded. Damn lonely but not unpleasant. Luke, like all genies, was able to make his prison a palace, and as long as he kept busy, each time of confinement went swiftly. He’d been alive for over ten centuries; what was a score of years?

This stint was almost done. He went to the covered clock that hung on the other side of the room, walking easily with the almost imperceptible rocking of the lamp under his feet. His last mistress, after getting what she most wanted, had tossed his prison over the side of a boat, and he’d been forced to go with it.

He brushed the clock’s velvet curtain aside so he could study the face. The hands read April 2004, and he nodded. Almost twenty years had passed. His lamp would be picked up soon. Goddess, God, or fate always made it so.

Luke grabbed his wrists and stretched upward, wincing at the satisfying series of pops that walked up his back. About time. He shot a glance at his bookshelves. This time, I’ll bring back more books. He leaned backward and rolled into a handstand. Facing away from the clock now, he headed for his closet. Its doors slid back, disclosing outfits that reflected the many centuries of his existence. His first-meeting wear would never be current, but that didn’t matter; peacock behavior was for mortals.

He laughed. Says the man who keeps almost everything he wears in any century. He curled down into a crouch, then stood, shedding both boxers and T-shirt with two fluid movements. Maybe a traditional genie turban… Brushing clothes this way and that on the closet’s bar, he didn’t at first feel the summoning tingle that started at the roots of his hair. Or a business suit?

The tingling spread down to his neck and then out to both hands. Luke scrabbled for his boxers. Wait! I’m not ready!

"Use your magic, stupid," spoke up Benji’s voice. His maker was long gone, but his voice seemed to always come at the best and worst times.

He laughed again and started to think himself into a pair of swimming trunks, but the summoning tingle encompassed his whole body. Naked, his own powers frozen for the moment of transport, he was sucked out of the lamp.

Well, he was definitely going to make an impression. He grinned inside himself like a fully risen sun. Best case scenario, his new master would be blind, and thus his nudity wouldn’t matter.

Transport complete, the tingling feeling receded. Hovering above the water like a leaf in an updraft, Luke gazed down at the man who treaded water below him. His new master’s eyes were hidden by what Luke assumed was a newfangled version of the scuba mask his last mistress had worn on occasion. Dark brown hair like bittersweet chocolate made little plastered curls on his forehead and neck, and his face was lightly tanned.

"Put some clothes on!" Benji all but screamed, and Luke snapped his fingers. Swimming trunks appeared. He sank into the water, cradling the lamp under one arm to keep it from floating away. In the same breath, he buried his magic within himself, rather like covering a neon pink and spiky-bad haircut with a hat. Any other magical beings within a hundred meters of him would know where and what he was, but those farther away would have no idea he was here unless they were seeking his magic-signature specifically. Partial anonymity would help him focus on only his master.

His magic safely hidden away, he smiled at said master. Hello, Master. My name is Luke. That hadn’t been his name when Benji had made him a genie; he’d adopted the new name some hundred fifty years ago. He swam forward a few strokes, surreptitiously checking out their surroundings. A mostly empty beach was visible in the middle distance. Though he couldn’t be sure, he thought he might still be in the Gulf of Mexico, where his mistress had dropped him. The water was ocean-buoyant with salt, and calm. He hadn’t been summoned to save his master from drowning.

His master pushed up the mask, revealing blue eyes just a shade lighter than the water around them. He laughed, a deep, rough purr. Whichever of my coworkers hired you, tell them you had me going for a minute, especially with the mirrors or whatever you used to appear naked in midair, but I’m not interested in any one-night stands. He pulled the mask back down. Oh, and tell them -- whoever they are -- that they don’t know my taste in men at all. He struck out for shore.

That was the first frustrating part: convincing his new master that he was in possession of a genie. The second would come when Luke had to explain the rules. Well, soonest begun and all that.

Luke did another check of the beach. There were people there, but none of them seemed to be staring in their direction. They were alone out here in the water. He vanished, reappearing in midair before his master’s eyes. Can you explain this? He rolled over on his back, tipping his head back so he could look at the man in the water. What’s your name, Master? Not that it mattered. Masters and mistresses usually didn’t want you to use their name; it was just something to ask so the silence wouldn’t rush in. He hated silences. They were annoying.

I’m Mark, his master said. Of SearchLight.

Luke didn’t recognize that name, but it was apparently significant to his master.

I don’t know how you’re doing this, Mark said, but there’s surely a trick of science involved. He swam under Luke, who resisted the urge to roll over and keep him in view.

Mark passed his hands under Luke, not quite touching him.

He could feel the heat of those hands, and he wanted to move just enough to make the contact, however brief, skin to skin. Mark’s voice -- steady like a professor’s but rough as if he used it as a weapon -- called to all Luke had denied himself for far too long. This new master looked nothing like Jesse, but that somehow made Luke’s desire okay.

Okay, Mark said, this is sophisticated. He sounded intrigued. What kind of technology?

Luke turned over. You’re a man of science? Why couldn’t he run into someone who believed in anything and everything? No, that would be too easy.

More or less. Mark’s eyes shone like a mirage. Yes, he was intrigued. Is this some new science? His eyes flicked to Luke’s swim trunks. You’re not hiding some kind of… He shook his head, muttering, "Nothing’s that small, and this isn’t Star Trek."

Not understanding the reference any more than he knew the meaning of SearchLight, Luke ignored it. If he had to know, he’d find out. I promise, I’m not using any sort of scientific find to stay suspended up here. He made his trunks disappear for a moment, waited until Mark’s jaw had dropped far enough and his cheeks had colored before poofing the trunks back into place. See? His gaze flicked down to the water, and he wondered if Mark was sporting an erection or if that was just the play of light on water.

Yeah… I see. Mark started for the beach again, tugging once, harshly, at his swim trunks. Will you answer a question? His voice was unsteady, but when he glanced over his shoulder, that gleam was still in his eyes.

Fighting the need to swim under Mark, maybe even touch him, Luke said, Sure. He sank back into the water and swam beside Mark. You’re a little confused, right? Let me try to help. I’m a genie, and you rubbed my lamp. He paused. Twenty years was too long to go without a tease or two. Feel free to rub other things.

Mark loosed a short, unamused laugh and faced him. He treaded water confidently, like it was his element. No. He frowned. Genie? Well, since dragons exist, why not?

You’ve seen dragons? He prayed there were no dragons in the area.

The man quirked a tight smile. Several.

You believe in them. Luke’s excitement was like a flood; he worked hard to suppress it. His master believed. This was so much easier than convincing his last mistress.

Of course I believe. But why was your lamp -- if it really is yours -- near this particular coast? Where’s your master? Wait. He nodded to himself. "You called me master. That means your last one ran out of wishes?"

Luke handed the lamp over. He watched Mark examine it. I was dumped here after my last mistress found her happiness.

So, I get three wishes? Mark shook his head; his face was set. Unless you can help me catch a murderer, I don’t need anything. Do you want me to wish you free now? He shook his head and muttered something else Luke didn’t understand: Disney Classics. Blue fuck.

Luke frowned. You can’t just give up your wishes. Don’t you have someone or something you want? If one of your friends is setting you up with one-night stands, you must not have anyone. Isn’t there someone you want to fill your bed?

Mark was laughing again, a little humor garnishing the bitter sound. No. But maybe I do have one wish: I wish you’d --

Luke held up his hands. Wait. Before you make it, I should tell you the rules.

There are rules? Then, probably to himself, Of course there are. He nodded at Luke. Fine. Let’s talk on land. He struck out for the beach, moving like a thing born for water.

Amused by his own erection, Luke followed him in.

He lingered by the water to stay out of the way as Mark approached a tall man with brown-red hair and a fierce gaze. Sir, there’s nothing out there. Mark scooped up clothing from the beach and quickly covered himself as if he were shy. If there was anything, the tide took it. With your permission, I’ll come back tonight and see if our target’s nocturnal.

The man -- his master’s boss? -- started walking away, gesturing for Mark to follow. A woman joined them. She dusted off her hands on her shorts. Nothing on the beach, either, she said.

We might still be dealing with a rogue merman, the man with Mark said. Everybody, call it a day. He looked to Mark. Come back after nightfall.

I’ll let you know if I find anything.

The boss took a step closer and said something that made Mark’s shoulders tense. Try, Mark, the man said louder as he stepped back. Exhausting yourself isn’t going to help.

The woman who had reported an all clear on the beach was looking at Luke, so he flexed a muscle, grinning at her. She laughed.

He caught up to his master as Mark yanked a shirt over his head and even a pair of shorts over his swim trunks, which were practically still dripping. Nice girl.

Mark scowled. If you’re done flaunting what you think you have, let’s go.

No wonder you don’t have anyone if that’s how you talk. Luke straightened to his full height (he towered over Mark by a whole quarter inch) and said, Of course, Master.

And quit saying that in public. I’m not into S and M, and I don’t need Re -- anyone thinking that’s what I like.

Luke made a great show of looking around. Then he stepped close to Mark and purred, I think we’re alone, dahling. Shit, he smells good.

Mark tensed. And keep your distance. His voice dropped. If I’m your master, do you have to do what I say?

Luke sighed. Open-minded as the man had seemed at first, flirtation was obviously outside his comfort level. Sort of. That has to do with those rules we have to discuss.

Mark’s scowl deepened.

Luke said, You’re pissed at me. I didn’t realize you’re in the closet. He hid a grin, loving how he picked up all the slang within minutes of arriving in a new time. It was definitely one Benji-given gift that he didn’t think he could have done without. Leave comedic customs confusion to I Dream of Jeannie.

Mark whirled and shoved him back a step. (This probably wasn’t the right time to comment on his master’s sexy-as-hell strength.) I’m not. I just don’t need you coming on to me. His voice dropped again. If you really are a genie, and you’ve been trapped in that lamp for centuries, you probably want to get laid. I understand that; I respect it, but I’m not interested.

I’ve only been in there for twenty years. He tried to pass it off as a joke, but he retreated two steps, hands raised. I didn’t mean to come on like a horny bastard. I was just flirting. Joking.

Mark gazed at him for a moment, and his eyes said he wasn’t going to forgive. But then he looked down at his sneakers. Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood, okay?

Maybe he was just trying to do his job. Hadn’t he mentioned a murder? Yeah. Luke nodded beyond Mark. Shall we? He picked up the pace and walked beside Mark, not too close. When did you see your first dragon?

Mark’s lips quirked. Change of topic? All right, I’ll bite. I was sixteen. It was after one of my cousins. I’m just glad I saved her. He looked away, then back. It’s hard not to believe in something like that when it rockets out of the water right in front of you. He let out a bark of laughter. "And yet people have been fooling themselves and forgetting on purpose as long as Homo sapiens have had an imagination." He glanced at Luke and shifted so there was another half foot between them.

Had his master been assaulted, or just harassed too often by guys with nothing but fuck on their minds? Were you out in the water looking for others today?

Not dragons specifically, no. But there have been too many near drownings and all-out deaths even for this season. He pointed. There’s my car. I’m going to take you back to my place, partially to verify what you are, partially for research, and partially so I can listen to these rules without having to drive at the same time. All right?

Luke shrugged, suddenly tired. This business relationship was going to be as boring and taxing as the one with his former mistress. It’s not as if I have a choice, Mawster. I do what you tell me. For the most part.

Mark smiled. It was a jaded twist of his lips. Quit pretending to be docile. And stop calling me master. The smile fell away, and he took on a decidedly hungry look. But Luke thought it was more the craving of knowledge than money. This has more to it than three wishes, doesn’t it?

"Yes. There are genies of the three-wishes type; I’m just not one of them. But he couldn’t be serious no matter how it might ease things between them. You have almost endless wishes with me." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Mark took half a step back, his body language all about caution and don’t touch me.

Luke tried to look apologetic. Sorry, but I’m pretty much at your disposal, and a lot more people than you’d think want the sex that can go with that statement.

Mark turned away. A ten-thousand-year-old slut. Why me?

Luke grimaced at his back, then followed in his master’s wake. Sometimes, when you got saddled with an asshole for a master, the best you could do was keep your mouth shut.

* * *

Mark closed his door, got the car started, turned on the air-conditioning to combat the hundred-degree temperature, and pulled out of the parking lot. He needed to calm down. Luke’s customs weren’t his own, just as a dragon’s way of life wasn’t his; he had to remember that. Respect given was respect returned, at least in terms of most of the magical beings he dealt with. As a rule, humans didn’t give respect for respect.

Mark sighed. Oh, come off it, Tavery. It’s not his attitude you don’t like; the vampires come on to you every chance they get. Same with the mermaids, dryads, and dragons of both sexes. You’ve got the looks; deal with it. He sneaked a peek at Luke’s still-bare, golden chest and would have hardened if he hadn’t been so on edge. What you don’t like is that you’re attracted to him, and that’s wrong.

He pulled out of the parking lot and turned north, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. For something to distract and calm him, he stared past the pastel-painted storefronts that lined this part of the Gulf Coast. Just to have something to say, he asked, Your name is Luke?

Silence from his new genie.

He risked another glance at his passenger. Right?

The genie nodded, adding, Yes, Master.

He was slumped in the passenger seat, and he wore a look that reminded Mark strongly of the expression he saw in the mirror each morning. What’s wrong?

Luke glanced at him before straightening in the seat Nothing, Master.

He tried for politeness. Please stop calling me that.

Trust me, you’ll like it better. It puts our working relationship on better footing. You don’t want to even pretend to be my friend. It makes things difficult.

What could he say to that? He sensed he’d stepped all over some genie taboo. Am I supposed to call you Luke, or do you have a specific title? He turned left off of Beach Boulevard. The house he shared with Dan, a SearchLight-given two-story, was only five miles west, in the heart of Gulfport.

Slave is the opposite of master. Luke turned his face toward the passenger-side window.

Yes, but… He stopped. Luke had so far shown himself to be free-willed and opinionated. He needed to tread softly. You’re the first genie I’ve met. What did I do to offend you?

Nothing. Master.

Mark tried for a lighter tone and failed. You’re not the same person who was flying over me, naked, less than half an hour ago.

Luke grimaced. You don’t want that.

And so you’ll hold that against me, do the silent treatment just because I’m not interested? He glanced at Luke for half a second, measuring the genie’s level of commitment to this new behavior, ignoring the play of light in Luke’s golden lashes. What was his true modus operandi: polite butler, flirting sex maniac, or something still stranger? Would you be like this if I was heterosexual?

You don’t want the real reason. Luke had gone back to staring out the window.

Mark snorted. How do you know?

Luke faced him so quickly Mark nearly drew back. You asked, remember. You’ve insulted me. I’m a sentient being. I know you don’t have to give me respect, but I want it nonetheless. If you’re not going to give it to me, don’t expect me to be fawning or even friendly.

I insulted -- Oh. His cheeks grew hot. I called you a slut. He sighed. He hadn’t made that kind of mistake in years. Even his time with Reese hadn’t infected his interaction with magical beings. Sometimes, when I don’t watch it, I’m a bit of an asshole. Mostly to other humans. He considered offering his hand but wasn’t ready for touch. An apology would have to do. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.

Luke faced front at once, and he was grinning again, his full lips drawing back from perfect teeth.

Not wanting to be rude, Mark didn’t avert his eyes, but he wished for more traffic to distract him as his cock reminded him how long it had been since he’d masturbated successfully.

Luke blew a blond spill of bangs off his forehead. You can’t be that much of an asshole if you’re willing to admit it and apologize.

Oh, I’m an asshole all right. But the grin he found on his lips felt almost right. If Luke could bounce back that fast, they might just get along until Mark could find a way to pass the genie off to someone who needed wishes. Soon, he thought when the head of his cock throbbed. Swallowing, he vowed to keep his words and thoughts to science’s safe ground.

He guided the car through half a dozen deserted intersections before leaving blacktop for brick. The Florida sun seemed to melt the world like butter, making him grateful for the air-conditioning. It was a hundred degrees in April, and he definitely remembered last summer.

After three blocks on brick, he turned into a sandy alley that ran along the back of what he called the company house. He parked in a wall-less carport and shut off the engine. The heat was oppressive almost at once, but he didn’t move. There were no other cars in the driveway, but that didn’t mean Reese wasn’t home.

Are you waiting for me to open the door, Mawster?

Mark raised an eyebrow at Luke’s teasing tone. He’d been completely forgiven, it seemed. Good. Maybe, after hearing Luke’s rules, he could convince the genie that he didn’t need any wishes fulfilled. Besides, asshole was his least-favorite title. Almost. I can do that for myself, thank you. But he continued to sit, needing what his mother called a moment. If he was lucky, he’d have the house to himself. Well, no way to know except to go in. Could he ask Luke to make sure the coast was clear?

He was a coward only thirty percent of the time, and so he opened his door.

Luke did likewise, glancing back over his shoulder. He winked. Let’s talk where it’s cooler.

Mark didn’t respond to the wink… but he had a sneaking suspicion the do-you-like-what-you-see Luke was the real one. As he followed Luke to the door, he shook out his keys. I take it you weren’t born in the desert. Then, as a concession to the humidity, Or the jungle. When he opened the door, heat baked out to meet him. You won’t find it much better in here until I get the air-conditioning going. Go ahead and find a seat in the living room. It’s to your right. He made for the thermostat at the end of the hall.

He heard Luke close the door. Actually, no. I was made a genie in the dead of winter. Luke laughed. But Benji -- the one who made me into a genie -- was from the desert.

How old are you? He spotted the boxers lying over the kitchen chair just as he reached the thermostat. Why did Reese insist on turning all common areas into his personal pigsty?

I look the twenty-five I was then, Luke called from the living room. I’m at least a thousand years old, give or take a decade, but I don’t sound it, so I don’t expect you to believe me.

I’ve talked to beings much older than you. He cranked the air-conditioning, then snagged the boxers and shoved them into the cupboard under the sink. That would do for now. He’d get up the guts to ask Reese to put them away later.

Or he’d ask Reese’s lover, Dan.

He took two Cokes out of the fridge and started back toward the front of the house. Few have been in my house, but -- He froze in the arch that separated the hall from the living room.

What? Luke, blond god from the hair on his head to the hair on his… legs… lounged on the couch with his shoes off. With everything off. Except a thong.

Even as Mark’s cock informed him how much he wanted to touch all that hair, he took a step back.

Luke shook his head. I’m not trying to come on to you. It’s just hotter than when one of my masters went to Death Valley. He lifted a hand, and one of the cans of Coke sailed into it. He peeked up through his lashes, and his beautiful teeth flashed in a broad grin. "Well, not quite that hot, but he wouldn’t let me get down to basics."

Luke wasn’t going to jump him right here and now. With that realization made, his mind was free to give in to another truth: the genie was ripped. The strength went out of Mark’s legs, and he tried to pass it off as lean-in-the-doorway nonchalance. His cock was fully at attention now. Luke wasn’t just ripped; he was perfectly made, from the bottoms of his feet up to and including his less than innocent gaze. He was somehow more beautiful now than he’d been when he was suspended, naked, over the water.

I am not feeling this. Mark pushed himself off the door frame and stalked to the couch. He glared down at Luke. Neither will I. Put some clothes on.

Jeans, a T-shirt, and even socks and shoes appeared in their proper places. Sorry. Luke opened the can, chugged the contents, and made it disappear. Then he stood.

Mark took a huge step back before he caught himself. He shifted his weight forward. Did he look like he was on the offensive? He hoped so.

Luke hadn’t moved away from the couch. I guess I could just work a little magic -- with your permission -- and make it cooler in here.

He hesitated. You need permission? Not a wish?

Just permission. Luke blinked at him. And I don’t bite.

And you’re not going to change this place into an igloo?

Luke laughed, head back, eyes closed.

Seem trusting even if you’re not was one of SearchLight’s central tenets. Fine. Make the air in this house seventy degrees. He paused. Fahrenheit.

Luke snapped his fingers, but he was still laughing. He sat back on the couch and had himself under control by the time Mark had settled in a chair across the room. You’re an old hat at this. It’d be hard to lead you into loopholes.

The air was seductively cool. Mark tried not to show his pleasure. Before I decided to pursue this scientific offshoot, I wanted to be a lawyer.

Luke smiled. I’m not surprised. Ready for the rules?

Thank God. He couldn’t make idle chitchat for shit. Go ahead.

Luke sat forward, his forearms on his knees. Rule one: I’m a prisoner of the lamp. If it’s destroyed, so am I, but it’s more than that: I have to remain within half a mile of it at all times. He picked up the lamp where he’d set it by his feet. On the other hand, I can do this -- the lamp shrank to the size of a keychain, and he clipped it to his shirt -- and make it more portable.

That’s handy, Mark said, taking notes in his head. He could have written them down, and it would be easier if he did, but if he didn’t want Luke to feel like a specimen, he should just listen. Taking notes tended to scare magical beings off. Or offend them. Does that closeness extend to me? Do you have to be near me?

Nope. I couldn’t carry out half-a-world-away assignments if that was the case. Rule two: I can’t kill you.

Mark snorted. That’s good to know.

Luke winked. Rule three: you can’t kill me. Which means you can’t destroy the lamp, either. Only magical beings can do that. Rule four: you don’t get a set number of wishes. My job is to stay with you until the power that rules me says I’ve satisfied whatever you most need. Call it finding what makes you happiest. I can do anything in pursuit of that goal except meddle with free will -- yours or others’ -- or change your nature, meaning sexual orientation, gender, race or species.

Who made these rules?

Like the Christian god, but decidedly not. Luke straightened and held out his hand. In its palm, he cradled a boat, complete with a tiny woman. She cast something out of the boat. My last mistress threw my prison away, and I went with it. That couldn’t have happened unless the One-Who-Decides -- whatever and whoever that is -- decided she didn’t need me anymore.

Aren’t you curious about who makes that decision?

Are you curious about who or what created you and the rest of your universe?

Mark blinked. This was the first time he’d heard a magical being talk of something spiritual. It’s too big a question, one you probably will never find an answer to. That’s what you’re saying.

Bingo. He clasped his hands, making the image disappear. That’s it for rules. He settled back against the cushions. Oh, except one thing. If I think of a way to improve your life, I have to get your permission before executing it.

What happens if you don’t have my permission and work magic anyway?

Luke was suddenly pale under his tan. More pain than you want to know.

Banshees suffered something like that if they left the general area where they’d died. Mark tried to make his voice gentle to show he understood. You’ll be with me until we figure out what makes me happiest? I can’t just say I’m fine and send you to someone who needs you more?

Luke shook his head. The One-Who-Decides wouldn’t let you.

And you’ll need to be around me most of the day to accomplish that?

You can draw the line wherever you want to. I’m not going to follow you into the bathroom -- or bedroom -- if you don’t want me to.

Okay. He frowned. If we’re going to make the most of your time, it would be best if you came to work with me each day. But to do that, you’ll have to become part of the staff. He paced in small arcs. I might be able to get you in as an independent contractor, a consultant. What kinds of magical beings do you --

Outside, a car door slammed. I’ll pay for your gas next time!

Oh shit. Reese was home.

Jeez, Johnson, Reese continued, aren’t you just a little too uptight? The car engine revved, then began to recede.

Mark stood by the front window, safely hidden by the curtains. "Why’s he home now? He breathed for a moment, steadying himself. Let’s not introduce you as a genie, all right? He was conscious of the sweat that had broken out on his forehead despite the pleasant coolness of the house. He scratched his head and stepped back from the window. You’re… you’re an associate, someone who’s here to help me with research. You’ve moved in to the company house -- he gestured at everything around them -- to help me specifically with some… merpeople research."

How about genie research? Luke asked.

Mark scowled. That’s too damn close to the truth. Do you know anything about merpeople?

Not enough to pass as an expert for more than five minutes, and only that long if I keep my mouth shut the whole time.

Mark groaned. What do you know? Besides genies.

There was a moment of silence.

Mark whirled on him. I order you to tell me what you --

Dragons. I know dragons. Luke’s voice was scarcely audible, and he wasn’t merely pale under his tan, but decidedly gray.

Dragons hunted other magical beings. Had he been hunted? For an instant, Mark wanted to comfort him. He thought even so far as to come up with another plan.

But Reese would be at the door in a moment. Mark knew he’d look like such a kicked bitch if he was found here when the door opened, but he couldn’t move. He strained to hear Reese’s footsteps.

Warm hands closed on his shoulders and began a deep massage.

Mark’s eyes drifted closed. He relaxed at once into the firm press of Luke’s fingers. At this moment, the genie didn’t seem to have sex on his mind; his hands moved only confidently. Soothingly.

I can work a little magic like this without permission. Luke’s hands didn’t stop. He leaned a little more into the massage, his breath coming like a caress against Mark’s neck.

A spark of pleasure, like the first flash of lightning over the Gulf in midsummer, ran from Mark’s neck to his groin.

Unless, Luke whispered, his breath a tease, you don’t want me to touch you.

No. The sound of his own voice shocked him out of the pleasant trance of Luke’s hands. He jerked out of Luke’s grip. Don’t. Touch. Me.

The doorbell rang, and Mark winced.

Okay. Luke snapped his fingers, and a laptop appeared in his hands. He settled on the couch and opened it. He snapped his fingers again, and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses settled into place. He let them slip to the end of his nose and grinned.

If Luke touched him like that while Reese was here… Forgetting the door for a moment, he advanced on Luke, stopping well out of touching distance. I mean it. Even if you think I have a sign on my back that says ‘whore,’ back off. Got it?

Luke nodded, managing to look contrite with his bent head and zero eye contact.

Mark refused to fall for that act twice. Or my wish for happiness is going to be that you leave me alone.

It doesn’t work that way.

Fuck all. Of course it couldn’t be that easy. In fact, fuck off. The doorbell rang again, and he groaned. With a shaking hand, he brushed his bangs out of his eyes.

Damn it, Mark, I know you’re home!

He spared Luke one more pissed-off glare, then composed himself as he touched the doorknob. Reese couldn’t have the satisfaction of seeing him this stressed.

And why had he let Luke get that close to him, let alone touch him? Listening for Reese’s footsteps like a man buried neck-deep in sand listens for the advancing tide was no excuse. He opened the door. You forgot your key again?

Reese pushed past him. Dan home yet?

No. We have a new --

Reese had drifted toward the living room. Hey. Who’s this?

After shutting the door and locking it, Mark followed him at a remove. He stood in the hall while Reese crossed the room to stand over Luke.

Who looked up, the glasses slipping again to the end of his nose. Luke Morrison. Mark called me in. I’m a dragon specialist.

Huh. Reese wandered back out into the hall, brushing oh-so-casually against Mark. He went toward the kitchen. What’s for dinner?

Take-out? Mark asked. I just got home. He slipped into the living room, where only this genie who was supposed to help him could see. He brushed at his bangs again, though they were nowhere near his eyes. Why was he giving Reese excuses? Hadn’t he left Reese to get away from those?

Luke drew a finger across his throat, waggled his eyebrows, and whispered, Do you want me to make him disappear?

No! Damn it, that reaction had been too intense for a joke. Not yet.

Reese called, Where’re my boxers?

His face was on fire. Under the sink. Now was the time to steel himself and have another talk about Reese’s house-as-pigsty habits. He started for the hall but stopped when Reese spoke again.

Why the hell’re they in there? A cupboard slammed. He half jogged into the living room, carrying the boxers on one finger. He brushed past Mark and sat next to Luke. What’s this?

Mark took a step closer. There was no doubt Luke could protect himself, but he was in Mark’s house at Mark’s request. Reese, he’s straight. Don’t --

Reese laughed. I’m all but married, and you’re worried about me hitting on this no-looker? He glanced at Luke. No offense.

Luke started typing. Mark, we’re going back out to the beach after dark, right? We might get a new lead.

Yeah. He escaped toward the kitchen. Gee, he’d lost his courage again. Surprise, surprise. He’d managed to escape Reese four months ago, but that was cold comfort now.

Reese followed him down the hall. He might turn gay for someone like me, Marky, but never --

Luke popped into existence right behind Reese. He wasn’t as tall as Reese, but he managed to look imposing nonetheless. Hey, kid, the scientists have work to do. You want a toy to play with? Go find the one between your legs.

Mark had the pleasure of seeing Reese’s eyes widen. But then they dulled, and he wandered off down the hall without a glance back.

As soon as he was gone, Mark rushed forward. What’d you do?

Gave him the genie’s form of a hypnotic suggestion. It won’t last long, and it doesn’t even work on most people. Luke wasn’t smiling now. Seriously, if you want me to kill the bastard, I’d be glad to do it.

He has a lover.

Luke’s eyes sparked, and he brought his hands together in a kill-him-now fashion. He’d thank us.

Mark shook his head. Dan can handle Reese. He took half a step back. In the midst of his surprise, he’d put himself and Luke within easy touching distance. I don’t think your job is to keep him under constant hypnotic suggestion but… thanks. He went to the phone, shutting out the fear, the embarrassment, and especially the misdirected rage that wanted to give him that false sense of power. I’m going to call for pizza.

Chapter Two

By the time he got back to the house he shared with his latest victim, Benji was sweating. That sort of reaction wasn’t usual for dragons, especially ones born in the desert, but Florida was a forsaken state. He was here only because this was the last place Luke had been.

Well, that, and he had a sneaking suspicion Luke was still here.

He slammed the door behind him and strode toward the back bedroom where he’d left Ruth, the Luke-touched old bat, sleeping after she’d given him much of her blood. Ruthie? I’m home, he purred. She never remembered him taking her blood; that was a great side effect of Alzheimer’s. Still, he liked to keep her calm. She was easier to deal with that way.

He entered the bedroom and at once knew the scent of death. The room, cooled by air-conditioning, was still packed with the stench of rotting meat. Ruth lay in the bed as he’d left her, except there was blood on her lips now.

Benji stood over her for a moment. The bitch had died, leaving him without a steady blood supply. Worse, she had died without remembering where she’d dumped Luke’s lamp. He grabbed her up in his arms, rocketed from his human form into his dragon-body, and tore her in half. Fuck you, bitch! I would have killed you before this if I’d known you’d never give up where you dropped him!

He hurled the sundered body across the room. It hit the wall and slid down in two pieces.

Benji looked at the corpse for a moment. All right, he said. All right, Ruthie. I guess it wasn’t all your fault. He drew a breath and blew flame over the corpse. At once, it began to burn.

Less than an inch above his head, the smoke detector went off. He grabbed the squealing thing off the ceiling with one clawed hand and crushed it. Then he walked over to the burning body and stomped the flames out. He’d have to dispose of the body, but it was charred now, less recognizable. As long as he took pains to hide the body well, he’d be all right.

He regained his human form and turned for the doorway. The room now smelled of roast and death, but that was fine. He’d be out of here in a day or two.

The world rolled like the deck of a ship, and he caught himself against the door frame. No, the world hadn’t moved, or at least not the physical one. A genie had just arrived in the area. Or been released from a lamp.

Benji licked his lips. He’d created a hundred genies in the fifty years of his childhood. This was the time when all dragons could create future prey. He’d set all the genies loose on the world to grow powerful enough to be sustaining food for him. If it was Luke who had just wandered into his awareness, the genie had chosen a bad time and place to resurface.

Then the feeling faded as whatever had come into the area was absorbed into the general ebb and flow of the magical stream that ran through this part of the world. This happened more quickly than it should have, and Benji frowned, doubting for a moment if he’d really felt the flare of magic.

I did, he told the charred corpse behind him. It’s just that whoever came into this area is overly cautious. He or she might know I’m here.

Yes, that might be true, and if it was, it might be time to move on. But instead of rushing off, he went into the living room and over to Ruth’s favorite rocker. He leaned it all the way back against the wall just as she’d hated. There was no need to run around blindly, despite the limited time the genie might be in the area. The world was full of magical beings for him to eat. What he needed to know was if the thing he’d sensed was his prey, Luke. His last prey.

In the nine hundred years since he’d started eating the genies he’d created, he’d devoured all but Luke. If it was Luke, the genie wouldn’t spend only a day or two out of his lamp. Even with pushy, need-to-wish-now masters, or maybe especially with those Type As, Luke drew out his time, wanting, like most anyone, to be free instead of in prison.

Benji went into the downstairs bathroom, picked up one of Ruth Ann’s combs, and ran it through his tightly curled black hair. He smiled into the small mirror, nodding at the healthy glow of his skin. Ruth Ann must have had another three to five years in her when he’d accidentally taken too much. Maybe not completely healthy years (he felt slightly bloated instead of full) but mostly healthy. He’d be at peak performance for at least a month. That was plenty of time to catch any genie.

He splashed water on his face, then walked, still dripping, toward the stairs. He climbed them in a trice and kicked the bedroom door open. She couldn’t complain. But that wasn’t what had prompted the prankish bit of force-showing. He could see Luke in his mind’s eye, begging him for just a little more time. Maybe the human he was serving now was female. Benji could kill her first and drink her monthly blood while Luke cried out in pain, his duty to her unfulfilled. Nor would his pain be completely in his mind; he would feel her death as a little death in himself as some of his power was burned away by his inability to give her what she’d wanted. If Benji wanted to enjoy watching Luke’s pain (and he did; that was why he’d used his power to make genies instead of the more powerful, volcano-born, fire-loving salamanders), he had to find Luke before he could grant the woman’s (please let it be a sweet woman) greatest desire.

His heart was pounding hard, but he cast it off as exhilaration. The pain you feel when she dies will be nothing compared to what you’ll feel when I bite you.

His stomach turned a little, and he groaned. Putting a hand there, he staggered half a step. Maybe he should rest for just a little while before he went after Luke. At least long enough to let his body absorb the blood fully. With a reluctant nod to practicality, he half staggered into the bedroom, flopped, spread-eagled, onto his back in the middle of the bed, and closed his eyes.

When he woke, he’d make reaching out to the magical world with his limited telepathy a first priority. Who knew? Maybe Luke -- he was becoming more and more convinced with each passing moment that it was Luke that he sensed -- would be foolish enough to stop hiding.

* * *

Luke disappeared upstairs shortly after Mark called for pizza. He needed a little distance from his newest master, not because he was frustrated with Mark -- confused, yes, but not frustrated -- or because Mark had asked for some privacy, but because he was more than half aroused, and he couldn’t hide it, baggy jeans be damned.

So he retreated upstairs, found a bathroom with a locked door, and sealed himself in. He wasn’t intending to masturbate, at least not at first. All he wanted was a moment to figure out why he wanted Mark so badly and what he could do to keep his emotional distance. Not all masters and mistresses pulled at his heartstrings or his lust-strings, but Mark did both. Dangerous.

He picked up the soap, meaning to work up a nice lather and wash his face, but when he lifted his hands, he caught Mark’s scent, or at least a part of it. He inhaled, and the faint smell of spice went right to his cock. Closing his eyes, he saw Mark’s relaxing shoulders before him, and Mark’s inviting neck. He inhaled again and could smell Mark’s skin and even, faintly, the erotic scent of his hair. Out on the beach, Mark’s darker, secret perfume had been hidden by brine and breeze, but here at the house, first downstairs and now here, it was like an invitation to a tryst.

He groaned softly and rinsed off one hand under the water. Keeping the other close to his nose, he snaked the now-clean hand down to his jeans, flicked open the button, yanked down the zipper, and grasped his cock.

Sound joined scent as he heard Mark’s rough laugh. He could almost hear words too, but it was enough to hear the purr of Mark’s voice. He inhaled, listened to the phantom voice, and stroked himself. He tried to imagine Mark’s hands on him, but he hadn’t gotten much of a chance to touch Mark, except for the soft, tanned skin that covered cast-iron muscles. Giving that up for lost, he replayed Mark leaning in the doorway to the living room, his eyes half closed, his gaze hungry. He replayed the spark in Mark’s gaze as the man had realized that he was going to have the chance to treat with a magical being. And his hand moved.

He didn’t dare make any more noise, but instead buried his face in the crook of the soap-scented arm and stroked. Not gently or slowly, as he could imagine doing with Mark’s gasped pleas, but with no less pleasure. He swallowed Mark’s name as it rose to his lips and swallowed a cry as his balls tightened. His lower body was all liquid fire, and he bucked his hips as if he were buried deep in Mark’s heat.

His release was building; he plunged his head even farther into the crook of his arm and groaned, "Mark." He squeezed his eyes shut, watching Mark leave the water again, moving almost as gracefully on land as in the water, and came.

His knees trembled, but he caught himself on the sink with his soapy hand and held on until he was sure he’d be able to stay on his feet. He lifted his gaze to the mirror and grinned at the wild, sated gaze of the blond man who looked back at him. Well, that was fun.

After another moment, he straightened, washed his hands and tugged his jeans back up, congratulating himself that he’d decided to go commando.

He paused, though, in the midst of praising his good sense. Had he ever before masturbated to the thought of a master within the first twenty-four hours of meeting him?

No, he whispered, and the glow of post orgasmic pleasure winked out like a dead bulb.

It didn’t matter, he told himself. He wasn’t really tempted; he was just enjoying Mark’s beauty.

Straightening, making sure he cleaned up -- magic was a great plus -- he left the bathroom and headed for the stairs. But when he stood at the top, he saw the closed door to his right and let curiosity steer his feet. He listened to the silent house -- Reese would stay mind-stunned for at least another ten minutes or so -- and opened the door.

Mark’s dark scent engulfed him at once, and Luke stumbled in, forcing himself not to close the door. He felt his cock wanting to harden but deciding that, for now, it was still happy.

His glanced round the room, hoping for a clue to Mark’s inner mind, and was treated to more than he’d ever wanted. Mark’s bed was neatly made, but not like a cleanliness-oriented person would do it. To his untrained gaze, it looked like Mark hadn’t slept in it at all in weeks or months.

He moved toward the bed, curiosity still driving him, and that was when he saw the nest of blankets on the far side.

Mark didn’t sleep in the bed. He slept on the floor.

* * *

Luke chewed and watched Mark. Pizza was one of those greasy glories that he’d loved since the nineteen thirties, and he’d sat down to thoroughly enjoy it, but dinner at Mark’s house was like a supper eaten near the fringes of hell. One of the biggest problems was that this house didn’t belong to Mark or the other two, but to their employer: SearchLight, a magic-hunting, government-funded group -- or that was his guess. If no one owned it, no one could make rules.

Dan had acquired the house when he’d become a personal secretary. He’d asked Mark to move in to help pay the bills. They were friends, and it’d kept Mark from having to find an apartment. Dan turned around months later and invited his new boyfriend, Reese, to live with them. If Luke had known about reality TV shows, he would have guessed this was all a setup for which millions of Americans tuned in each week.

Luke sat beside Mark on one side of the table and watched his master eat next to nothing. Dan and Reese talked little, and Reese didn’t so much as glance at Mark. To an outsider, it might have appeared Mark was overreacting. And maybe he was, but Luke, knowing he was probably already biased in his master’s favor, didn’t believe that. He just didn’t know how to lighten the mood.

Halfway through his third piece of pepperoni with extra cheese, Luke’s head exploded with pain. He clutched at it, so shocked by what was supposed to be a purely human malady that he almost thought he’d accidentally worked a bit of magic for Mark without permission.

This wasn’t that kind of pain, though. He was dizzy too, and when he closed his eyes, he was treated to an unfriendly sight: a dragon, brown-and-orange scaled with wings three times as long as Luke was tall.

It wasn’t a vision, something that might or might not be true. Genies didn’t have such things. And it wasn’t a daydream, or something created in his own mind. This was truth, and he’d seen this dragon before. It had hunted him when Jesse, a long-ago master, had taken him to Death Valley. More comfortable in heat than cold, it had only attacked him when he was in those hotter parts of the world: Egypt, Peru, Hawaii.

And now Florida.

He pushed back from the table. I need some air.

Mark glanced at him, and the surprise and concern in his eyes was almost enough to make Luke smile.

I’m all right. We can leave for the beach in a while. His hand trembled as he touched his temple. It was magical backlash; the dragon was looking for him telepathically, and Luke’s mental shields had risen to defend him. But a genie’s shields weren’t like those some psychically sensitive humans boasted: they took so much out of him that he never wished them into place.

Luke took the kitchen door, which opened not into the sandy alley but to a real, asphalt-paved street. When the door was closed, he sat on the steps, gripped the sides of his head, and willed the shield to stay in place until the dragon decided he wasn’t to be found this night.

* * *

Benji sat up, his hunting thwarted. He still lay on the bed upstairs, and he punched the mattress. Fuck. Luke had put up a shield, making it impossible for Benji to track him. But it was most certainly Luke. There was that much to be grateful for.

Calmer now -- he still had the upper hand, since Luke probably hadn’t escaped with the knowledge of who was hunting him -- he got up. His stomach rolled, and he padded to the bathroom. He’d need to shower and dress before he could go anywhere. Seeking his prey mentally had never made him sweat before, but there was a first time for everything.

He’d have to stay in human form if he wanted to go looking for Luke physically. It was full night, but humans were obsessed with holding back the darkness. If he wanted to stay anonymous, his human form was best.

He turned on the shower before heading back to the closet. He’d need to pack and find a new place to live. Using limited telepathy left footprints. This place would be staked out soon enough by wary magical beings.

A hotel would be best. Thanks to Ruth -- and his own powers of coercion -- he had plenty of money. And if he lived in a hotel, surrounded by lots of mortals all the time, he could draw on their energy to build his shields. No one would be able to reach out and sense him.

Two minutes later, clothes laid out on the bed, he stepped into the shower. He let the water beat against his faintly itchy skin. He’d have to make sure to take some of Ruth’s lotions with him when he left. He grabbed the shampoo, dumped a blob on his hair, and started to scrub. Mmm, that felt good. His head was starting to itch too, and he could scratch and wash at the same time. But once the shampoo was out of his curls, he went on scratching. And other itches were announcing themselves every moment: his chest itched, that annoying, hard-to-reach place between his shoulder blades had started its own inane jabbering, and even his balls begged to be scratched.

He left off his hair and opened his eyes. He meant only to grab the soap, wash his pits and get out so he could find the lotion, but the soap wasn’t in the dish on the wall. He glanced down, spotting the bar half covered in brownish black scales.

"Shit! He punched the wall, effectively putting a hole in the tile. He didn’t feel any pain. Shit shit shit!" He slammed his hand on the turn-knob to shut off the water, then simply stood dripping and wanting to scream at whatever ran the universe. Of all the times he should be shedding his scales, it had to be now. (Though having the process start with just a few scales was certainly strange. And, by all rights, he shouldn’t have started shedding until June.) He’d be out of commission for two weeks while the shedding ran its course. He couldn’t hunt Luke while dropping scales: he’d betray himself a thousand times before getting close enough to strike.

But the scales would keep falling. Most mortals wouldn’t believe a dragon could be walking among them, so they wouldn’t notice, but anything magical would spot the shedding scales and know him at once.

His stomach tightened suddenly, and he fell forward, catching himself on the wall of the shower. He puked between his feet, tasting Ruth Ann as she came back up. He gagged, retched again, then groaned and leaned back against the other wall. Maybe her blood hadn’t been as healthy as he’d thought.

He opened the shower door and snagged a towel. Not even Ruth’s lotions would stop the itch. He groaned and rubbed himself quickly dry. He needed to be gone by morning. Because -- as if things weren’t bad enough already -- scales, once shed, stank. He couldn’t settle where most magic beings traveled, and now that they knew he was here…

Perfect, he muttered as he dropped the towel and headed for the bedroom. Why now, when he’d finally found the genie, he’d made a genie just so he could feast at some later date? The world wasn’t fair.

Still, as he dressed, he reminded